


Break Up and Fall Apart

by orphan_account



Series: commentary one shots [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Gen, I suppose, Oops?, Sick Fic, Unrequited Love, bit of a hospital trip but nobody dies, teehee, this fic is just the result of my roots being in angst & comedic fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 16:03:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17880872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: George falls in love too hard, he’s listless ft. a quick trip to the hospital





	Break Up and Fall Apart

**Author's Note:**

> if you didn’t read the first part of this series would highly suggest that you do, given that you might be a bit confused with this one otherwise
> 
> since i forgot to say this with the last fic, both this one and the other one have songs that go with them, and inspired them! the last one is Pink Rabbits by The National, and this one is Fall Away by Twenty One Pilots owo.
> 
> if there are any plot holes it’s a PURPOSEFUL NARRATIVE CHOICE and it is NOT because i can’t be assed

George always feels like he’s third wheeling when he’s around Alex and Will, and it hurts. He finds himself wedging in between the two, trying desperately to be included, trying desperately to get Alex’s attention off of Will.

 

It’s the big green monster in him.

 

The side of him that he likes, the nice side, is happy that Alex loves someone. Hopes that Alex ends up happy with who he loves. Hopes Alex is happy. Because he loves Alex, and Alex deserves the world.

 

Clawing his skin to shreds, though, is the other side of him. The side he tries to keep hidden away. The side that cries out for him to ruin Alex’s love prospects. To always be the dividing force between Alex and the object of Alex’s affections, even if it soils Alex’s friendship with George.

 

He’s not asleep. Of course he isn’t. He stays up until two am regularly- eleven is nothing. He’s pretending to sleep. 

 

He wishes he was asleep when Will takes Alex’s hand. 

 

Something heavy curls up around his heart, setting his chest at an uneasy tilt to the left. It’s wrong. It’s all wrong. That should be his hand intertwined with Alex’s. But it’s not. He has to live with that.

 

It’s all he can do to try not to cry. 

 

(When he’s alone in his bed, painfully aware of the fact that a room over, Alex and Will are curled up together, sharing body heat and heartbeats, the sobs that wrack his chest arrive uninhibited.)

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, he’s listening. Of course he is. When is he not? It’s a bad habit, but he’s got quiet feet, and if he stays still and silent, nobody notices when he arrives. So he keeps doing it.

 

He watches as Alex wakes up. He wants to cry when he sees the look on Alex’s face. Love. Pure love. 

 

He wants to scream when Will wakes up. When they talk to each other like they’re in love. Soft whispers is all they are, but they’re deafeningly loud to George.

 

Alex looks like he’s about to say something important. Something big. George can’t stop himself.

 

“Alex, we’re outta milk- well, what’s going on here, lovebirds?”

 

He feels sick. His mouth runs away from him- he’s trying to keep it under control but it just keeps talking, and he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on, but a pillow is thrown at him, and he has a couple of quid in his hand, and he’s walking out of the door to go to the shop.

 

He feels sick.

 

He feels sick.

* * *

 

 

When he gets back from the shop, groceries in hand, Will is gone, and Alex looks dejected.

 

He feels sick. He feels like his skin has grown too tight, a vice around his bones and his brain. One wrong move and he’ll split at the seams, everything will spill out, his innards poking out like stuffing on a bear.

 

“George,” Alex sighs.

 

George closes the fridge. He turns to Alex. He puts away the the big green monster, smiles, and asks Alex what’s wrong.

 

“I’m just… I was gonna tell Will that I love him, and then you barged in. Now I’ll probably never get the chance to tell him again.”

 

He feels sick. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Alex.”

 

“It’s okay. I love you, George.”

 

_ You don’t mean it. You don’t mean it. You don’t _ \- He runs to the bathroom.

 

He’s sick. 

 

Staring into the toilet bowl, he’s listless. Down the drain, down the drain, down the drain his sick and his tears and his pain go. Alex is behind him. Alex has his hand on his shoulder. Alex is there, and George is leaning back, and leaning his head against Alex’s chest, and he’s sick and now he’s saying sorry, and whatever curled itself around his heart last night gets up stretches out, trodding on his lungs and his stomach and he’s shuddering now. 

 

“You’re burning up, George, let’s get you to bed.”

 

He doesn’t feel sick anymore, but the weight has settled itself over his heart again.

 

* * *

He wakes up and it’s dark, and he’s lying in his own sweat, but there’s something pleasantly cool on his forehead, and Alex is sitting on his bed, talking.

 

“...sorry, but I can’t go out with you tonight. George is really ill. I don’t wanna leave him alone, his fever is rising and if it gets too high we’ll have to go to hospital. Each time I’ve left he’s cried for me, too, I can’t leave him. Really. You guys have fun.”

 

Alex takes something out from George’s mouth.

 

“Oh jesus christ, that’s high. Wasn’t talking to you, James. No, no, you guys don’t need to stay in. You can go out and have fun, don’t worry about us. I’ll phone you if he takes a turn for the worse.”

 

Long pause.

 

“He’s awake now, yeah. Probably not for long. He keeps going in and out of consciousness,” he directs himself towards George, “you feeling alright, George?”

 

“Feel like pure shit just want her back x.”

 

Alex laughs, speaks back into the phone, “he says ‘feel like pure shit just want her back x.’ Yeah, he said the x out loud… No, you don’t- I mean if you want to- what? Repeat that, can’t hear shit. Yeah. No problem. You don’t need to ruin plans for us, but if you feel like it go ahead. Doubt he’ll be eating anything for awhile, but when he wakes up for good, he’ll probably appreciate- ha, yeah…”

 

George lets Alex’s voice lull him back into sweet sleep. 

 

The next time he wakes up, James is there. 

 

“...can’t believe you’re doing this, James, there’s not much to see here, really. His fever keeps getting higher, though, I’m fucking worried. My mom said that once it reaches 39.4 degrees we should take him to hospital. Really hope it doesn’t get that high.”

 

“He looks like shit.”

 

“I do not,” George says, as adamantly as he can given his mouth feels like it’s made of sand and his body feels like rocks.

 

“You do, buddy, and- holy hell, his clothes feel like he took a fucking dip. That can’t be comfortable. James, could you pick him up for me? I’m gonna change the sheets for him.”

 

He feels himself being picked up, and lets James lull him back into sweet sleep.

 

The next time he wakes up, his sheets are dry and his clothes are dry and it’s even darker. 

 

Nobody’s talking, for once.

 

“What…” he tries to sit up, only to be pushed back down by his own infirmity, “what time is it?”

 

It’s James who speaks, voice hushed with concern.

 

“It’s ten in the evening.”

 

“Oh. Cool. Where,” he coughs, “is Alex?”

 

“He’ll be back soon, don’t worry.”

 

“Okay,” he smiles.

 

James pushes his hair off his forehead, petting him lightly.

 

He doesn’t notice that he’s fallen asleep, until he wakes up.

 

The ground is shaking. His world is falling apart. The lights around him are flashing and blurring. 

 

Finally free of whatever shackles had rendered him stationary before, he stands up. The world around him is dark, but the ground still shudders and rolls beneath his feet, threatening to uproot him. Standing over him is the monster that has his heart in its grip.

 

“Unhand my heart, you fiend!” he shouts, pointing a pale finger at the thing. 

 

It smiles at him, a sickly reflection of his own face, just like him, but wrong. 

 

“No,” it replies, a haunting echo of his own voice, “it’s mine. It’s supposed to be mine. Don’t you see yourself, George? You’re dead. You don’t need it anymore. You keep chasing me around in circles, round and round, but you don’t know where you’re going.”

 

George stares at his own hand. It shakes. It jumps and shudders and skids and bounces just like the ground beneath his feet. It’s white, and tinged an unnerving shade of green. He notices that he can’t feel it. 

 

A ghost. A shell of his former self. He notices he can’t feel anything. Not love, not fear, not his legs or his heart or his head. 

 

He convulses. He longs for the creature to come back inside him, make him feel okay again, even if slightly to the left. He misses that welcome weight, suddenly, as he feels too light to stay on the ground. 

 

And as he floats up, he looks down at himself, small and ill. Sweating and shivering, curled up in the backseat of a car that’s racing up the streets. Alive, still. He wonders why he left that all behind.

 

He can’t look away. But he does. He looks into the monster’s eyes, and he’s pulled back down to the floor, and the monster is big again.

 

He’s forgotten why he’s here.

 

“Who are you?”

 

“I’m you, George. What, you think you’re possessed? Dead? I’m not god. I’m just you. A figment of your imagination. I don’t really exist. Nothing is holding your heart from you. They’re called emotions, George, you’re allowed to have them.”

 

The monster shrinks, shrinks down to a normal, human-sized thing. He’s in his flat, the day Alex moved in. Boxes everywhere. Alex isn’t where he’s supposed to be, where he was that day, sitting at the couch, rifling through a box.

 

“Where is he?”

 

“Driving you to the hospital. Again, George,” his mirror image sighs, “this isn’t real.”

 

“Okay. Then why does it feel real?”

 

“You’re basically on your deathbed, you’ve got a fever so high. You’re having a fever dream.”

 

“Oh. Okay.”

 

“Listen, George, I’ll give you back your heart. But I need to you to heed my advice. It’s not fair to you to keep on living like this. Think of yourself, listen to  _ me  _ for once. Don’t keep this a secret. Tell Alex. Tell him how you feel about him. He doesn’t love you, but it’s whatever, isn’t it? You’ll get over it. You’ll live with it. Things like this don’t last forever.”

 

“But it’s not fair to  _ him  _ for me to tell him that- he’ll feel weird about it. I can’t push my feelings-“

 

“Shut the hell up, knobhead. You’re not pushing anything. You’re telling him how you feel. He can choose what to do with that. It won’t make things awkward. It’ll be fine, okay? You’ll be fine. Capisce?”

 

George sighs. Looks around. The flat feels empty without Alex.

 

“Got it. Can I have my heart back, now?”

 

His heart bleeds in his hands. It feels tangible, is the first thing he notices. The deep red stains his fingers pink, and he doesn’t looks so dead anymore.

 

He takes one last look around his flat, and then he’s back in the car.

 

It’s stopped now, and he’s being picked up and moved.

 

He’s stuck half-conscious, knows he’s being carried and knows that he feels so  _ hot  _ and so  _ cold  _ all at once, but he can’t open his mouth and he can’t feel his heart in his hands and he can open his eyes, but he still can’t speak.

 

Everything is silence- then it’s not. Noise comes in all at once, banging into his head like a cast-iron pan. He’s placed down. He closes his eyes as the lights all become too bright.

 

He hears beeps, and distant talking, and distant screams of pain, and Alex is talking all rushed about something, and James is whispering  _ fuck  _ over and over again.

 

“...nearly 40, he threw up at about noon then passed out. He’s delirious, keeps waking up then falling asleep again. Sweating buckets. Um, yeah, only left him once or twice to go to the bathroom. Didn’t feel right leaving him alone in this state. On the way here, he kept shouting…”

 

Something is slipped into his arm and he’s out cold.

* * *

 

 

“How’s the fever, George?”

 

His eyes peel open.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Thought so. You’re doing a lot better.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“You should be well and good to go home in another day,” the man smiles at him.

 

“Okay.”

 

His eyes fall shut.

 

* * *

Recovering from the fever is weird. Alex hovers around him nervously all the time, sometimes putting his hand on George’s forehead randomly. George keeps insisting that he’ll be fine.

 

(Secretly he loves the attention.)

 

“I’ll tell you if I feel off, Alex, it’s okay,” George sighs, swiveling in his chair to fix Alex with a look of mild amusement. 

 

Alex gives up the hiding act, stepping out from behind the doorframe. 

 

“I just worry, George. You were in hospital for three days! Just…”

 

“Give it a rest, knobhead. I’m okay now, yeah? What say you we go out with Will and James tomorrow? Prove to you I’m alright?”

 

“I dunno…”

 

“I’ll keep from drinking too much, if it makes you feel better. God knows you three will need someone to look after you, drinking yourselves into comas every chance you get.”

 

Alex relents. 

* * *

 

 

“Woohoo! Party pooper George. I’m gonna go dance with Will, bet you’re jealous.”

 

“I’m not.” (He is.)

 

“Have fun!” (Please don’t.)

 

He feels sick. He watches Alex stumble away, quickly swallowed up by the crowd. Suffocated by the stench of sweat and alcohol, whatever’s got his heart in a deathgrip clenches tighter.

 

He thinks back to last night- he was woken up by Alex screaming, and still half-asleep, he shambled over to Alex’s room to tell him off.

 

_ “Confess to him, bastard.”  _ If only George could take his own advice.

 

He needs to tell him- not tonight, not when Alex is in the state he’s in, but- Will and Alex are kissing.

 

Will and Alex are kissing, and James has come over to complain about how tired he is, and George thinks he might be sick. 

 

He pushes himself off his stool, grabs James by the arm, and marches over to where Alex and Will are eating faces, nauseous the whole way. 

 

He can’t stand this. But he does. It’s what he has to do, for Alex’s sake. 

 

For Alex’s sake, he tries not to cry too loudly when he hears Will and Alex exchange drunken ‘I love you’s in the other room. For Alex’s sake, he tries not to cry too loudly when his skin converges in on his bones, and his body feels too small and too tight to hold his emotions. 

 

It’s all for Alex’s sake, isn’t it?

 

In his dreams that night, the monstrous, twisted part of him asks him when it’ll be for his own sake. 

 

* * *

Three days later, he tells him.

 

Alex is crying to him about Will again- George doesn’t know why, but out of the three, he’s the one that’s been chosen to be Alex’s romantic advisor. Kinda sucks.

 

Alex’s tears form wet patches on George’s t-shirt, as he wails and moans. In a moment, the big green monster in him grabs him by his collar, spins him around, and slaps him the face.

 

“I love you,” George whispers.

 

“What?” Alex asks, looking up at him.

 

Alex looks so beautiful, is all George can think.

 

“I love you, Alex.”

 

“I mean- I love you too. What’s this about.”

 

“I want you to listen to me please, Alex. I love you.” He draws out each word like it doesn’t feel like stepping on glass. (It does.)

 

“I- oh. Oh.”

 

Alex looks at him, pitiful.

 

“I’m sorry, George.”

 

“It’s fine.”

 

“I just don’t have feel-“

 

“No, Alex, you don’t need to reject me. I already know. I’ll get over it, at some point. I just needed you to know. I just… needed to tell you. It’s been eating me up inside. Nobody to tell it to.”

 

“You wanna talk about it? Friends first, yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” George smiles. Leans back. 

 

Instead of spilling from the split seams of his skin, his insides spill from out his mouth, and for the first time in forever, it doesn’t feel like he’s too big for his body. 

 

* * *

When Alex tells Will that he loves him, he’s listening. Of course he is. When is he not? It’s a bad habit, but he’s got quiet feet, and if he stays still and silent, nobody notices when he arrives. So he keeps doing it.

 

Alex looks happy, Alex seems happy, once the two stop sobbing away. Will’s asleep, and Alex is lying there, a grin on his face. 

 

Even though he wishes it were him, there in Will’s place, the big green monster of jealousy isn’t too big anymore. 

 

Alex catches sight of him, and his grin falters for a moment. It hurts- he wants Alex to be happy. With or without him.

 

So George smiles.  _ I’m happy for you _ , he mouths. He’s sure that the sadness behind Alex’s smile is mirrored in his own. 

 

This is enough. This will be enough.

 

This has to be enough.

 

For Alex’s sake.

 

But mostly for his own. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> fun writing tip: if you don’t want to have to repeat dialogue from a different pov just make the character so overcome with emotion that they can’t recall the dialogue in question ;-)
> 
> also this fic, as with the other one, was going to be a LOT fucking sadder. as i said in the tags: my roots are angst & comedy, so you should all be very thankful that i’m sparing you. i’m a sad bitch i live my life depresses as hell and i can write that shit WELL. originally i was going to have george just. never tell alex. never get over him. years later and will and alex are married and george is just. sobbing. lmao. that was the og plan for it and i really like that one, actually, bc this particular fic was MEANT to be sad. i didn’t want this fic to give off happy vibes, so im a bit disappointed that i chose to go with the ending i did, but damn. i just want george to live his life ya dig. but anyways, yeah. i might one day add a second chapter onto these two that have the alternate endings i had planned.  
> another tentative plan was to make george kind of ,,, a dick??? but i wanted this fic to be TRAGIC and you can’t sympathise properly with a character that’s just doing shit for his own gain left and right. so i did make george a bit too selfless instead. selfless to a fault, as it were. thanks for reading folks.


End file.
